


eyes wide open

by blue--phantom (twilightscribe)



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Sex, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Colonist (Mass Effect), Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Fuck Or Die, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, Paragon Shepard (Mass Effect), Shepard Twins (Mass Effect), Sole Survivor (Mass Effect), Work In Progress, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22726498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightscribe/pseuds/blue--phantom
Summary: In which, Shepard is an idiot, Garrus isn't far behind, and everyone else can see it despite the cultural misunderstandings and miscommunication. Throw some manufactured sex pollen into the mix and, somehow, everything works out for the best. At least, for a while. Before it, y'know, all goes to shit again. Somewhere at the end of it all, they'll be happy and together.
Relationships: Male Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

If he’s to be completely honest with himself, he never really thought that there would be much of a chance to act on or do anything about his initial impressions of one Garrus Vakarian (which were that he was cute). That, of course, changes quickly when Garrus ends up joining his squad and crew on the Normandy to take Saren down once and for all.

Not that he’s pissed about it, not even close. But he’s never had to give much thought about the whole ‘attraction’ deal beyond an initial thought, before, and he’s quickly finding that there’s a lot about Garrus that he finds attractive.

The head shot he pulled off in the clinic was impressive. His scent had spiked sharply, a quick rush of arousal pumping through him. It had dissipated as quickly as it had come on, mostly because there were other matters that demanded his attention. It had been pretty embarrassing; he’s always been in control of himself, but sometimes his instincts do get the better of him. But no one’s brought it up, so he can only hope that no one noticed.

So far as he knows, most of the other Council races are unaffected by human pheromones — or even capable of detecting them. Not that it’s a secret he’s trying to keep to himself, far from it. There’s no point to it; it’s in his file and even on suppressants, there’s still a faint scent that marks him to any other human as an omega. Same for Ashley and, to an extent, Kaidan as an alpha. He might be in the minority — given that male omegas aren’t as common as they once were — but that’s never been an issue for him before.

Right up until he’s speaking with his new crew, getting them settled on the Normandy, his status and attractions hadn’t been something that he’d given much thought to.

“Didn’t think you’d go for the turian, Shepard,” Wrex remarks. “I’d been aware that humans are different than the rest of us — men can have children and all that. Just never encountered one myself before.”

“You — how did you know?”

It feels rather like the floor’s been yanked out from underneath him. He’s left just staring at Wrex, wondering how the krogan managed to work all of that out and then just shrugging it off. Krogan can be, he’s aware, incredibly long-lived after all.

“What? That you’re a carrier? Or that you want to fuck the turian?” Wrex shrugs, “Can smell it and you’re not too subtle. I knew the instant he made that shot in the clinic; impressive, I gotta admit. Takes guts to take a shot like that, much less land it. Assault rifles aren’t really made for accuracy, if you know what I mean.”

“I thought that human pheromones didn’t have an affect on the other races,” he says. “Much less that they could detect them.”

“Dunno about the others — the quarian’s probably got no idea what with having to live in that enviro-suit of hers. The turian’s not noticed, but he’s got a stick up his ass, far as I’m concerned. But if you’ve been around long enough as me, you start to notice. Didn’t think you swung that way, Shepard.”

“I don’t ‘swing that way’ because I’m an omega, Wrex.”

“Didn’t think so. Doesn’t matter to me who you fuck or who you want to fuck. But you’ll probably have to hit the turian upside the head if you want him to take notice that you’re interested.”

He bites his tongue, protest on the tip of his mouth, because Alliance regs don’t really come into play here. Still, it wouldn’t be appropriate; he can hold his tongue and libido in check easily enough. It’s just a crush; he can live with it. It’ll go away.

He eats those words quickly.

Being in close quarters almost constantly — not to mention the high stakes that they’re operating under — means that it’s obvious when you’re trying to avoid someone, but the crew’s adjusted well and, as far as he’s aware, there haven’t been any incidents involving any of the non-human members. There was some grumbling at first, but nothing that he wasn’t prepared to deal with and he works on being on good terms with as many members of his crew as possible.

So, there’s nothing about him speaking with Garrus that’s out of the ordinary. Aside from the fact that his heart has a tendency to flutter on occasion. Or his scent to spike. It doesn’t take Rhys too long to figure out that he might be in deeper than he first thought. He catches himself several times tipping his head to the side, exposing his neck, and engaging in other, little signs of submission that are so typical of omega courting gestures.

The times that he catches himself, he quickly tries to brush them off. Luckily, it doesn’t seem like Garrus notices that he’s doing anything out of the ordinary. He never treats him any different, never gives him any sign that he knows about what’s lurking inside of Rhys’ heart.

He keeps reminding himself that the mission has priority. That, and he’s quite certain that Garrus doesn’t view him in that light at all. It might cause a painful ache inside of his chest and sadness to seep at his resolve, but it’s nothing that he’s not used to living with. With the mission, it’s easy to distract himself from his own unrequited feelings; he can throw himself into his work, just as he always has.

We’re making a difference, he tells himself. Focus on the mission. Prove that you worth their confidence.

But in the dark of the night, when he’s alone in his quarters with nothing but the horrors his vision promises and the cries of his unit echoing in his ears, the words hold little comfort. He still wonders if he was worth the sacrifice; if his survival was worth it. The thought torments him, and he’s tormented by the thought that he might fail; that all of this will be for naught and that he’s just leading all of them to their deaths.

Those dark thoughts, he tries to leave in his cabin.

But now… his mind has new thoughts with which to torment him.

It’s not the first time that he’s woken in the dead of night, chilled to the bone and — 

His face flushes red and he buries his face in his hands. The sheets are damp, with sweat and… other bodily fluids. Not to mention that his briefs are now uncomfortably wet. He ends up crawling out of bed, stripping it down and taking a very long and very cold shower to try and chase the remnants of his wet dream away.

Honestly, he thought that he had grown out of them when he’d started having a regular heat cycle as he went through the process of his awakening and puberty. Not uncommon, he knows, because his body was adjusting and trying to come to terms with what was expected of it biologically — but now, at the age of twenty-nine he’s having another one and it feels like he’s a teenager all over again. Just more fucked up than he was then.

The cold shower doesn’t work. The dark thoughts start crowding in.

He’s well aware that Garrus isn’t interested. After all, he hasn’t shown even a modicum of interest in him beyond their burgeoning friendship — something that he’s not prepared to sacrifice, not for anything. There’s been no one important in his life aside from Rowan; just some casual acquaintances. Friends aren’t something that he has too many of. So, he cannot ask for more, not when friends are so difficult to come by.

You’re not worth it, that dark voice whispers. The one that he ignores and tries to keep quiet at the back of his mind, but it’s always there, whispering to him at his darkest moments when no one else is there. How could anyone want someone like you? You’re not worthy.

Sucking in a deep breath between his teeth, he stares at the water as it circles the drain. The voice is right, for once. There’s nothing more that he can offer besides friendship. And he just has to accept it. It’s a… very bitter, difficult pill to follow.

Perhaps in time, he thinks, the pain will grow weaker until eventually it tapers away and he can look at Garrus without his heart skipping a beat and with yearning in his chest. It will hurt — it always will — but it’s a hurt that he can learn to live with.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.


	2. Chapter 2

The first time that it happens, he’s certain that it’s an accident.

Interspecies relationships aren’t uncommon. Although, given the Relay 314 Incident and subsequent strained relations between turians and humans… well, suffice it to say, he hadn’t given much thought to it. Thus, the first time that Shepard shows him his neck — head tipped to the side, revealing pale, vulnerable skin — he’s a little taken aback, but quickly assures himself that it’s nothing.

And then it keeps happening.

Perhaps to his credit, it seems to be an unconscious gesture on Shepard’s part. Likely, it’s just one of those pieces of human body language and unspoken communication that doesn’t translate well outside of their own species. Humans, after all, have a strange… hierarchy — he’s not entirely sure that’s the correct term for it, either — when it comes to their species, which also makes them quite unique on the galactic stage. Probably a way to express that they are not threatening — a welcoming gesture, perhaps? — to those who are capable of bearing children.

Of course, it has a _completely_ different meaning for turians.

But still, he can’t blame Shepard for the reaction it causes. It’s not Shepard’s fault and he has to repeat that to himself _several times_ when they talk and Shepard just… exposes his neck like that. He’s actually quite impressed with himself that he doesn’t turn into a stuttering mess when it happens who then has to excuse himself to deal with the response that it elicits in him.

In small mercies, at the very least, Shepard is completely unaware of the affect that it has on him. And he would prefer to keep it that way. Shepard is a _Spectre_ after all and, informally, his commander as well; it would be considered… inappropriate to act on his physical responses to what is, more than likely, an innocent gesture. Besides, Shepard took him on in good faith and has been nothing but welcoming and friendly to him; he won’t betray that because of his own selfish desires.

Honestly, he had expected that there would be a little bit more resistance. He’s aware that Chief Williams isn’t too pleased with his — and, by extension, Wrex, Tali, and Liara’s — presence on board the Normandy, even though it was developed by team of turian and human engineers. Although, she’s never verbalized that; she’s been nothing but cool and professional in all of their dealings and, though he’s not too sure, seems to be warming up to them. At least a little.

Shepard, though, defies his expectations.

His impressions of Spectres was that they played by their own rules, and that’s certainly true of Shepard. But, at the same time, he realizes that Shepard holds _himself_ to impossibly high standards; he’s the first one to lend a hand or ear when needed, regardless of how menial the task may be, and the first to throw himself into a fire fight when one is _needed_.

And there’s certainly plenty of those. He expected the action, the adrenalin rushes and the high stakes fights in potentially close quarters. But he’s reminded of all of the ones that they avoid; how quick Shepard is to try and defuse a situation before it results in violence. He’s successful more often than not. It requires a sharp and intuitive mind along with an ability to very quickly process available information to be able to propose peaceable solutions in tense situations.

Hell, he gets them out of several tight confrontations and even manages to charm people into helping them that Garrus thinks would be more susceptible to threats.

“I have to admit, commander, I’m a little surprised,” Garrus admits when they return from dealing with batarian terrorists threatening an established human colony. “I didn’t expect that to end the way it did.”

Shepard blinks, “What do you mean?”

“That you would just… let him go. He deserved justice for what he did — for all those that he killed. He won’t forget that you were involved and now it seems that he’s got a personal grudge against you.”

“I won’t stoop to his level,” Shepard replies, tone firm. “If I sacrificed the hostages, then I wouldn’t be any better than him. And that was what he wanted, ultimately. Some justification in his twisted mind that I, as a human, am just as crooked and cruel as him. Besides, there’s only so far that he can run before what he’s done catches up with him.”

“So, you defied him what he wanted in the end.”

“He didn’t get what he wanted out of this. Terra Nova survived and he’s now a wanted man; there are only so many places for him to hide. Besides, people like him are good at pissing off people that they shouldn’t. He won’t have many allies, not for long; eventually, he’ll run out of places to hide.”

“Aren’t you afraid that he might come after you? You did just make this personal, after all.”

Shepard smiles at him, “I _think_ I’m more than capable of taking care of myself in a fight, Garrus.”

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

“I’m just kidding.” Shepard’s still smiling, something almost… fond in his gaze and it makes Garrus’ heart stutter and skip a beat in his chest. “But I’ll be careful, don’t worry.”

He’s definitely a lost cause.


End file.
